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Author: Bald Hairy Man, Email: bldhrymn@excite.com

Catfish and Company Part Fithteen

We brought a video of the funeral back to Richmond. Vince had the Fire
Department videos and wanted to see if it was possible to pick out any
people who appeared in both. He said, often people as sick as the ones we
were dealing with liked to see their victims buried. We didn't have time
to compare, but Vince said, he had firemen who had lots of time.

Richmond's Mayor started a moral uplift campaign. He seemed to think the
bombing was God's judgment on the sinfulness of modern life. He started to
hold rallies. These were poorly attended, but were good for our
investigation. We found out who the Mayor's friends and associates were.

The Fire and Police Departments took the campaign really badly. The
bombing had killed more of their members than any other event in Richmond's
history and they didn't like the idea their dead were sinners at all. A
television reporter asked the Mayor that question point blank.

"Are you saying, Sir, the men and women killed in the bombing were
sinners?" She asked.

"No, they paid for the sins of others." the Mayor said with a smug
assurance.

"You mean God kills the innocent to punish the guilty." she asked.

"Things like abortion, homosexuality and . . ." the Mayor got lost in his reply.

"Being Jewish, Mr. Mayor?" the reporter filled in the blank. The Mayor
was in shit up to his eyeballs by then and left the room. That interchange
got on national news. I thought he would keep his mouth shut after that,
but no such luck. He got to be a celebrity on some of the strange talk
shows and his campaign was well financed by some deep pocketed extremist.

Captain Walker, the man in charge of the investigation for the city and the
bookkeeper in charge of the Fire Department weren't powerhouses of drive
and intelligence. They weren't bad men, just the wrong men.

I was shocked when Wilmot Evans, the Fire Chief-Accountant appeared at my
office.

"Mr. Noland, I would like to speak with you about the Temple Bombing." he
said in his somewhat prissy, very precise way. "We have a theory about the
event and I understand you have an alternative view. We have been working
under the assumption it is the work of foreign terrorists, probably Arab
and probably Anti-Semitic."

I explained my theory. It was the work of home-grown terrorists, primarily
anti-abortion, but with a strong ultra right wing aspect. "I wouldn't be
surprised if Anti-Semitism and anti Gay elements aren't part of the brew,
but I think it's mostly born-again and holier-than-thou." I outlined my
evidence, not telling him some important parts of the story.

"Well, Mr. Noland, I would outline the case for foreign terrorists for you,
but as you well know, there is no such case." Wilmot said. "Captain Walker
at the Police Department and I went through all the files this weekend. I
am an accountant. Nothing added up. The foreign terrorists do not exist,
their plot does not exist. We have been chasing a mirage."

"That's the way I see it." I said.

"The Mayor and I are very close, did you know his wife in my niece?" I shook my head. "I can not endanger the Department, my men and the people
of the city with this charade. Captain Walker feels the same way. We must
redirect the investigation."

"Actually, Mr. Evens, we would kind of like it if you, officially at
least, leave it as it is. We think the bombers have been lulled into a
false sense of security. If you can keep the Mayor off our backs, that
would be help enough."

"I can see your point." he said. "We can share information."

"We already are, Sir." I said. "We are well coordinated with both the Fire and Police Department."

"That explains it." Wilmot said. "When Walker and I went over the files,
we realized the official theory wouldn't hold water. We wondered why we
hadn't had rebellion in the ranks. They were already working on your
theory."

"Sandra, my niece and her mother fear that too." Wilmot said. "Sandra
feels there is something dreadfully wrong. Her husband has changed. She
thinks he thought he made a deal with a prophet and made it with the devil
instead. I don't think he can be saved politically."

"Captain Walker and I want to save our Departments." he continued. "After
the loss of personnel following the Mayor's election, the disaster of the
bombing and this botched investigation, I need to save the Department's
reputation." With this declaration he left.

I called Vince and told him about the conversation.

"Do you think he was trying to get information for the Mayor? Could he be a mole?" Vince asked.

"I don't think so." I said. "I think he was genuinely shocked at the
investigation. He's a bean counter who was put in an impossible situation.
My guess is, he had more guts than the Mayor thought. The Mayor thought he
had a rubber stamp and Wilmot Evans has some backbone."

"We will know soon enough." Vince said as he hung up. The phone rang
immediately; it was Ed.

"Do you remember my mentioning Reverend Johnny?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Well he likes to do some of his saving at the Southern Bar and Grill on Jefferson Davis Highway." Ed said. "It's a motorcycle, drug drop kind of
place. Word came back the good Reverend has been in a particularly exalted
mood since Bert died. You might check it out. It's Friday, they'll have a
good crowd there.

"Have you been there?"

"I sure have, but they know I'm a prison guard. They clam up." Ed said.
"With your good looks and commanding presence, you should fit in great.
There will be a full crew tonight." I thanked him for the info. Lonnie
came in the room.

"You sure as hell would." he said. "They like guys big there, 250 plus,
but your big where it counts. I'd wear something to advertise your meat
and you'll be beating them off with a stick." That evening I went to the
restaurant and took a seat at the bar. I was wearing an old flannel shirt
and older jeans. I was unbuttoned to my navel and had not brushed my hair
or beard, so I looked a bit like a wild man.

I asked for a Bud and nursed it while watching a NASCAR race on the
television. No smoking regulations don't apply to Jefferson Davis Highway.
Everyone there was a regular, so I stood out, especially since I had
showered in the last day or so, and didn't saher the stale smell of beer
and cigarettes that filled the room.

"What brings you here, Mister?"

"Bad luck." I said. "I was supposed to have a hot date with a girl in
Colonial Heights and the bitch stood me up."

"Have another beer." the guy said. "Beer is a lot more dependable than a
bitch, any day. I'm Skeeter." Skeeter was about 200 pounds, with dirty
blond hair and a beard. I guessed he was 35 or so.

"Beer is good, but you can't fuck it." I said. "They call me Donkey Man."
Skeeter took a glance at my crotch.

"Now how did you get a name like that?"

"I kicked my Momma so much before I was born, they though she was going to give birth to a donkey." I said. "They didn't know I was going to be a
hairy bastard until I got older." Skeeter laughed. Every time I turned to
look at the NASCAR race, he stared at my crotch. He introduced me to a guy
named Beau and another guy named Buddy. Beau was deeply tanned, with curly
black hair and a barrel chest. I looked at his hands and knew he was a
carpenter. Buddy was tall and thin and was an auto mechanic.

They all sympathized with my woman problems. They liked my Donkey Man
story and each looked at my crotch as I told it. They all knew the real
story. All were interested.

"Most girls wouldn't recognize a real man if she found him. They want to
go dancing and partying. You can't do that every night when your working
construction." Beau complained. "I leave at five to get to work, I can't
stay up to one or two in the morning."

"Preacher man! Come over here." Skeeter called. "Donkey Man here needs
for you to pray for him, so he can get laid tonight!" Rev. Johnny was
thin, pasty, pale, clean shaven and had small features. He clearly rarely
saw the light of day. He had a spectacularly coifed hair do, a combination
of Elvis and TV evangelist. Every hair was sprayed in place. He came over
to see us.

"You laugh at me, but you will pay someday." he said. "Fire, brimstone and
death shall be on your heads. God punishes. I am his prophet and his
hand."

"If that's the way you feel about it, don't pray for me to get laid." I
said. "Personally, I think I might do better on my own." My companions
were dazzled at my witty repartee. "I'm Presbyterian, either I was
destined to get laid or not. It was all decided before time began." One of
my Aunts had used a variant of the line to shut up a troublesome neighbor,
who thought it was awful she drank wine with dinner. Reverend Johnny
looked puzzled, said, "Humph!" and left us. My new friends burst into
gales of laughter.

"I'm not so sure about that." Beau said. "Remember last week? When he
said, he didn't need a gun? That was strange."

"What did he do?" I asked. "I'm no giant, but I could sure handle him."

"He was saying he would get us. I said, are you getting a gun? And he
said, he didn't need a gun. He could do us in and nobody would be the
wiser." Beau explained. "I thought that was just his typical line of
bullshit, but then he added, "like Burt", or Robert or some name like
that."

"I asked, "Who in hell is Bert?" and he clamed up and left." Skeeter added.
"It was strange."

"He looks like a strange one to me. I'd keep away from him." I said. They
told me more about him. He was Rev. Johnny Millbank and he had a store
front church on Hull Street. It was called the 'Open Bars Ministry'.

"I think he really wants to feel superior to them." Beau said. "Tommy over
there in the corner got in trouble once and the Reverend didn't do shit."

"The way we're putting down beers, I'm going to be in trouble soon." I
said. I was feeling good by then.

"Don't you worry one bit about that. I live in the trailer park right
behind here." Beau took a long look at my crotch and the outline of my cock
in my pants leg. "Many a guy has slept it off in my double wide." He
looked me in the eye. "They had a damn good time too."

I knew exactly what he was hoping for.

"Beau's a real friendly guy. He's helped us all out from time to time." Skeeter said.

"I hope you guys help him out too." I said. There was a pause in the
conversation.

"No one is more open minded than me." I said. My cock was beginning to
react to the talk and they all noticed that.

"Another round of beers for my friends here." I said. It wasn't eight yet
and I was a bit afraid we would be too drunk by the end of the night to
have any real fun. The room was real smoky, but I began to get a whiff of
non cigarette smoke. I looked toward the kitchen and saw smoke billowing
from the kitchen.

"I just got a call. The cops will be here in ten minutes. They got
sniffer dogs with them. It's time to leave." I announced in my best
bull-horn like voice. There was dead silence and everyone began to move.
Several dead drunks managed to get up and out. Thirty seconds later, the
place was empty.

"What in hell was that about?" Beau asked. The bartender looked pissed.

"The place is on fire. Let's get out of here." I said. The bartender looked back at the kitchen. "Oh shit!" he said as he dialed 911.

It was cool and nice outside. Skeeter had to go to see his parents in
Emporia, leaving me with Beau and Buddy. "How close is your trailer?" I
asked. Beau looked at me and smiled. There was a 7-11 next door, so I
picked up two six packs and we all adjourned to Beau's double wide. We
could hear the fire engines in the distance.

Beau's trailer wasn't what I expected. It was clean and neat with pictures
of three children everywhere.

"Bad divorce?" I asked when I saw them.

"That would be the nice way to say it." Beau said, bitterly. "Get in the
shower Buddy! You know the routine." Buddy left the room for the bath.
"It's one thing to get dirty at work, another to leave the dirt at home. I
need to shower too, do you mind?" Beau asked.

"Not at all. I wouldn't mind a little freshening up myself." I said.

"Jump in the shower with me!" Beau said.

"Is Buddy with the program?" I asked.

"Big time." Beau said. "He's the one who gave me some lessons."

It turned out neither man was a virgin. Beau was somewhat new to it and a bit reserved. Buddy was a wild man, open to anything and everything.

Beau was hairy with a nice compact set of balls and dick. He was cut and
had a solid, six-inch, tube of man meat. Buddy was thin, with hair on his
chest and a trail to his pubic forest. He was uncut with six or seven
inches of not too thick cock. Beau was quiet and didn't show much emotion.
He leaked non stop, so you knew under his calm exterior his juices were
churning. Beau was one of those guys who stares at your cock and seemed to
be unsure if he will touch it, then swallows it whole and won't stop
sucking until he has drawn every drop of cum from your cock.

Buddy was the opposite. He was enthusiastic about everything, wide open to
my cock and not shy one bit about what my cock felt like as I rammed him.
Beau had told me to fuck him good, while we were in the shower. "It's the
only way you can calm him down." he said.

Buddy was ready. He admitted my cock was a size or two bigger than he was
accustomed to, but he was ready. We tried it spread eagle style first, but
it hurt too much, so he decided to sit on it. It was good for me, but
strange for Buddy. Buddy didn't enjoy my cock; he craved it. I think he
must have been one of those guys who take being a size queen really
seriously. Everyone likes to look at big cocks, but not all want them
rammed in their ass.

Buddy wanted it in his ass, all the way, to the hilt. He was willing to
work for it and he didn't care what he had to do to get it in. I really
don't like hurting guys, least of all in the ass. You think of the
apparatus as being utilitarian, but it's all really delicate. I've spent
enough time in an ass to know the intense feeling you get when your cock
and cock head touch the membranes and organs in a guy's ass, don't come
from rubbing against calluses. It's all tender inside the hole. The cock
is the organ of touch.

Fortunately, the tight hole that was a problem for Buddy felt great to me.
Buddy was a hot fuck. Beau was turned on by watching his friend take my
dick. Buddy finally got use to it and got to spend some quality time in
places he had never been before.

I spent some time in those places when Mark fucked me and I sent my friend
Jim there, many times. I was a little afraid Buddy would be uncomfortable
taking the trip in front of Beau, his friend. Beau helped Buddy along.
Beau never lost his erection the whole time we were fucking. I realized,
Beau liked to watch and we sure put on a good show.

If Beau wanted a demonstration of every way you can force a cock into an
ass, Buddy and I did it. Buddy got loosened up after the first half hour,
either that or his ass hole was so tired he couldn't resist anymore. Beau
is a man of few words, those words being, "look at that fucker slide in
that hole", and "fucking hot!"

His cock was hard and dripping the whole time, I leaned over and licked the
precum several times. Both Beau and Buddy liked that. Buddy finally came
and fell asleep immediately. Beau looked relieved. He was lying on the
bed, so I straddled him and sat on his cock.

I totally surprised him.

"Shit, I haven't been in a hole since my wife left me." he said. I began
grinding my ass on his love pole.

"Just think of it as a man cunt." I said. He was enjoying it a lot.

"You're tighter than that bitch ever was." he said. I figured out what would really make his day.

"How did you like to fuck her? Doggy style?"

"On her back." he said.

"Let's do it that way then." I said.

"I cum real fast that way."

"Shove it in and let nature take it's course." That's what we did. Beau
was right, he popped quickly, but it was the right angle for his cock and
my prostate, so it worked out well for both of us. Beau was a happy
camper.

THE END

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